"Where have you just been, doctor?" Truyn asked.
"I have just come from Schneeburg."
"Ah? anything seriously amiss in the Capriani household?--I could not shed a tear for King Midas."
"The Herr Count cannot suppose that those magnificoes would call in a poor country doctor, like myself."
"My dear Swoboda, we all have the greatest confidence in you!" Truyn said kindly.
"I thank you heartily, Herr Count, but this confidence is an old custom, and the Caprianis consider old customs as mere prejudices, and propose to do away with them. I have just come from our poor Count Fritz."
"Indeed? are the children ill?"
"No, not ill, but ailing; there is something or other the matter with them all the time--they are city children;--however, I am not really anxious about them, they'll come all right. But I am sick at heart for poor Count Fritz, he is far from well."
"Ah, indeed? what is the matter with him?" Truyn asked in a tone of evident irritation.
"His unfortunate circumstances are killing him," the doctor replied gloomily.